One insipid day, Reminiscence miraculously managed to recur to his mind the memories redolent of his bittersweet past, the images thus reverberating throughout every fiber of his mentality. His eyes closed, those images then gained substantiality and superseded his lugubrious reality with the serenity of his hometown. It was winter. Standing on the rooftop of the house that had built him, he gazed into the sky afar with perusal so contemplative, attempting to grasp the theme, the symbolism of that ostensibly bleak pattern of clouds. Forlorn though the scene appeared, it intrigued his wistful soul, for it possessed an aura of mystifying subtlety that deeply enchanted him. Wintry gales permeating across the ambiance, then penetrating through him, his heart fraught with all the right sentiments. He longed to endearingly embrace winter and zealously cherish it. Just as his fondness for winter gradually culminated towards crescendos, Reminiscence left him. His eyes opened, sunlight harshly burning his vision, boisterous traffic exasperating his senses, superficial chatters pervading his head, he realized he had returned to his desolate reality, much to his dismay. That poetic winter was a mere reflection in retrospection, instilling remorse into his veins for not having fully appreciated it.